


Rekindling the Spark

by loveandwar007



Category: Monster High
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwar007/pseuds/loveandwar007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie and Jackson's happy marriage comes to a screeching halt and teeters on the brink of despair when they fail to bring their child to life. With no where left to turn and every option exhausted, Frankie discovers Jackson has been perusing her grandfather's journal and learns that even they need to be reminded of the true secret to creating life as Victor Frankenstein had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rekindling the Spark

"Oh darling, I never said this was going to be easy.”

“You never said it was going to be this hard either.” Frankie Jekyll-Hyde curled her slipper socked feet under her on the couch as she spoke with her mother via iCoffin. The normally high-energy construct ghoul was noticeably lacking her bright spark that evening, her blue and green eyes dull and downcast with a frown on her full dark lips. In fact Frankie had a hard time remembering the last time she smiled. How long had all of those attempts taken? When was the last time she and Jackson had held each other in a state of eternal bliss? A long while, that was for sure. They had been so preoccupied with...well, it didn’t matter now. After all that work and it didn’t matter anymore. “Five times, Mom. We tried five times.”

“And nothing?” Viveka Stein spoke sympathetically in a tone laced with the knowingness of someone who knew exactly what her daughter was going through.

“No, there was something,” Frankie’s voice began to shake again and she cleared her throat. “She looked at us, her eyes just sort of staring right through ours. I barely had time to react, to tell her I was her mother before--”

“It’s alright sweetheart, I know,” Viveka stopped her as Frankie sniveled, rubbing her sweater sleeve along her nose.

“It was the most beautiful moment of my unlife, right next to when Jackson and Holt said ‘I do.’” The brief happy thought faded as Frankie fell back into that stage of bitterness she couldn’t seem to fight her way out of. “That was it though. A moment. I thought we had it on that last try but...she just didn’t want to be with us.”

Her chest tightened painfully as she curled her body deeper into the cushions, pressing the phone against her ear as if doing so would bring her mother closer to her. Why wouldn’t any child want to be theirs? To have a mother like Frankie, so kind and cheerful and nurturing to everyone she met, who wanted to so badly to pass on everything she had learned in her short unlife to her own child. A child who would be getting not one father but _two_. Jackson Jekyll, who had the high-powered brain of a mad scientist and a gentle heart filled with love and passion; his alter ego Holt Hyde, the father who would provide the fun and excitement, more often on the reckless side than not, to show that he also cared deeply. But so far, it wasn’t meant to be. The levels had fallen as quickly as they’d spiked and their daughter closed her eyes for good, the sparks from her neck fading as she fell back against the lab table and never got up again. It wasn’t working, either her heart wasn’t strong enough or the life force wouldn’t reach her brain to make her function, and there was no way they could get the two to work simultaneously. Before Frankie could protest, Jackson had shut off the generator and it was all over.

The night before had been brutal. Frankie had left the basement lab without a word to her husband and dazedly climbed the stairs to their bedroom. She never felt Jackson come to bed even though she barely slept, and he was up and gone that morning before she could see him and ask why. They never called or texted during lunch, as if they were sick of each other and the ordeal they'd had to go through together. Frankie couldn’t blame him, they had been down in that lab for days, literally days. So much work and so much effort, everything Jackson had gone to school for, everything Frankie had grown up with, amounting to nothing in the end if they couldn’t fulfill their wish to raise a child. If only Frankie could conceive naturally, but it was impossible. She was technically not living and so neither were some of her parts. It made her feel incomplete, freakish, half-formed. Like the monster she was and always would be. And maybe because of that, she was doomed to never know this particular happiness.

“Jackson deserves better than this.” The words had left her lips before she could stop them and her mother exhaled sharply on the other end.

“How can you say that? He _loves_ you,” Viveka scolded earnestly. “Frankie, this is a challenge your marriage will overcome, not a terminating factor.”

“We haven’t talked since last night. Not once since he said we were done. He should’ve been home two hours ago. We can’t even _look_ at each other!” She was trying so hard to maintain composure now, biting on her sleeve as her eyes filled up.

“The same thing came to pass between your father and I while trying to create you--”

“Why didn’t you and Dad tell me it was going to be this hard?!” Frankie repeated more forcefully through trembling lips.

“We did,” Viveka responded simply. “And what did you tell me then?”

“That it would work as long as we had that spark. That spark Grandpa needed to make Dad. That love that family has for each other.” It felt so long ago that she had said that, wide-eyed and full of carefree optimism, hand in hand with her fresh-faced mad scientist husband. They could have taken on the world back then, and now the world had worn them down in merely a year.

“And your father said that spark can only get you so far,” Viveka finished softly.

“I don’t get it, we’ve tried everything,” Frankie shook her head. “And now I...I don’t want to try anymore.”

“I know I can’t help, my love. And I know I can’t ease the pain knowing how crippling it must feel right now. But I want you to know that I cherish you above everything else because of all the hardship I went through to get _you_ , my sweet girl.”

A tear dripped onto Frankie’s chest, staining her sweater. “Jackson and I don’t have two hundred years to get this right.” She started as she heard the front door open, clutching the phone harder in her stitched mint green hand. “He’s home.”

“Talk to him, Frankie,” Viveka implored. “Both of your hearts are breaking from this, you need to be there for each other." There was a pause and then, "It's okay to cry."

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Frankie said flatly in response. “Bye, _ich liebe dich_.”

“ _Ich liebe dich so sehr_,” Viveka murmured in farewell before they disconnected. Frankie stared at the phone in her hand as if it echoed her mother's last words of assurance. But Frankie hadn't been able to cry ever since it all ended. Any tears that had hit her pillow last night were born out of numb shock and blank staring, as if she realized what had happened but it hadn't fully sunk in yet. Deep down, the truth was that Frankie didn't want Jackson to see her crying even if she could. She didn't want to show him that all her strength and unwavering determination had withered away, leaving her helpless and broken. That wasn't who Frankie was in his eyes, not someone who gave up. She just couldn't let Jackson see her like that, not when she had vowed to be his strength when he needed it most the day she pledged herself to him fully.

"How's your mom?" came Jackson's hollow voice from the kitchen where he'd gone for a glass of water after his long day away from home.

"How'd you know?" Frankie called back without even glancing towards the doorway.

"The German," he replied tonelessly.

"Right," Frankie nodded, each blunt exchange with Jackson cutting into her dead heart like a dagger. "She's fine." Another tear dripped down the opposite cheek and she let it roll silently, her loneliness manifesting itself. But unless she could pull it together, she wanted him to stay away no matter how badly she longed for his touch, his comfort, his mutual sorrow. Frankie had always kept everyone's chins up when things looked bad and she just couldn't bear to drop that stance away from her own privacy. Not even in front of Jackson. Even as he appeared in the doorway to the living room, tie undone, oxford sleeves rolled past his elbows, chugging the glass in one hand as he ran the other through his yellow-tipped black hair.

"Deuce invited us over for dinner with him and Cleo tomorrow night," he said after a long exhausted sigh. "I don't really feel like going, do you?"

"No," Frankie replied simply, propping up her elbow on her knee so her arm hid her face from view.

"He said she has some big announcement--"

"She's pregnant. Ghoulia told me accidentally."

"Oh--wow," Jackson's voice finally broke a raspy octave, wiping water from his chin where he'd slobbered in shock. "Hey uh, good for them."

"We have to act surprised when Cleo tells us or she'll be really upset."

"Don't you mean _royally_ upset?" Frankie snorted a bit at his pun, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. Then they fell again. He didn't even ask how _she_ was. No kiss hello. Not that Frankie was making much of an effort to greet him. What was happening to them? A week ago they were exactly what their friends called them: the sweetest couple at Monster High and beyond. Now they looked horrifically miserable to be in each other's company, because Frankie was miserable. She wanted those happy days of her marriage back, even those high school and college days with him back. Every day before they took on the project that would bring them so much heartache, that would push them away from each other rather than bring them closer. She was jealous watching her ghoulfriends have kids of their own when she and Jackson couldn't, jealous when she babysat Lagoona's tadpoles that she couldn't share in her sea monster friend's motherhood. And now Cleo was joining the ranks of her, Ghoulia, Abbey, plus the rumor that Draculaura and Clawd were planning to adopt an abandoned litter of cubs. Frankie wanted it to be her turn, because as awful as it was for her to think, she wanted it more than any of the other ghouls.

As Jackson took up his briefcase from the kitchen and began to empty its contents onto the coffee table, Frankie’s eyes flashed as something caught her attention. One of the things he had pulled out was a smaller book with a heavily faded brown leather jacket. The stained pages yellowed with age were crispy and filled to the brim with added notes stuck hastily inside, bursting with more papers than the fragile binding could handle. The book had to be at least a century old. Over two hundred years to be exact. Oh yes, Frankie knew _exactly_ who this book had belonged to, and it made her jump up from her curled position on the couch for the first time that night.

“What are you doing with that?” Frankie managed to splutter out before stumbling over her own feet, numb and prickly from sitting in the same position for so long, and grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support.

“What?” Jackson asked, looking around at the books and papers piled across the table before his eyes fell on the faded leather book. “You mean--?”

“My grandfather’s journal,” Frankie finished for him as she stood up straighter, folding her arms across her chest in indignation. “The one my dad gave me after I met Sparky in the past. The one I haven’t shown to _anyone_ because it’s the most precious family heirloom I have. What are you doing with it, Jackson?!”

“Frankie, I thought it would help us,” Jackson resigned, picking up the journal carefully and holding it in his hands. “I’ve been reading it during my lunch breaks, any free time I have. He was a brilliant man and there’s some great stuff in here--”

“I had it hidden away where it couldn’t get damaged,” Frankie went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “I never told you where it was. Which means you would’ve had to go digging through my things to find it! Why would you do that without asking me first?!”

“Don’t be like that, I did this for us,” Jackson moved to reach for her but she jerked away, closing him off from her. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve read through the whole thing and there’s nothing we haven’t tried.” He held it out for her as if it were made of glass. “Here, I’m sorry I took it. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you. I...I was desperate. And I wanted to do this on my own without making you suffer any more than you already were.”

Frankie took her grandfather’s notes on his life’s work hastily from her husband and hugged it against her chest as if it were a comfort. She wanted to tell him it was alright, to show him the same gentleness he was showing her. But all of her bottled-up emotions seemed to be rising into her chest and throat and she couldn’t seem to swallow them down like she could earlier. She was talking with Jackson exactly as her mother wanted her to and it was only making Frankie more upset. She wanted to sprint from the room, but Jackson’s pleading gaze kept her rooted to the spot as if her feet had been stitched to the carpet. “When did you take this?” she asked bitterly.

“Last week,” Jackson admitted. “Like I said, I’ve tried everything.”

“You have a scaritage full of experimental mad science,” Frankie continued to snap. “Why didn’t you look through yours?”

“I have _nothing_ ,” Jackson’s husky voice rose to her volume. “Henry Jekyll destroyed all of his notes before he killed himself, they couldn’t find anything. The only heirloom that was passed down was the beaker he drank from that started it all. And my mom smashed it against a wall when I was two. When she found out the condition had passed down to me. You should consider yourself lucky you at least have _something_ , let alone something useful.”

“But it’s mine and you didn’t even ask! Just like last night when you didn’t ask if I was ready to quit on our daughter! It’s my scaritage! It’s _my family_!”

“Well sorry!” Jackson finally yelled in her face. “My mistake, but I guess I thought I was a part of it now!”

Frankie’s tense shoulders went limp and she nearly dropped the journal in her arms, her brow furrowed in anger relaxing as her eyes widened in shocked sadness. Jackson’s words hit her like a tidal wave and she instantly felt terrible. Pressing a hand to her mouth, every awful word she had hurled at him flooded back to her, he who was standing there just as stricken with grief as she was. How could she have been so cruel? Where was this _coming_ from? None of that was answered as Jackson tore away from her and stalked back through the kitchen. Jackson, her family, leaving her alone like her daughter had last night before she could even come into the world. And Frankie made up her mind. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. She didn’t want to grieve by herself. She didn’t want to push away the ones she loved when she was hurting for fear of worrying them. Not anymore. Her mother was a hundred percent right. Frankie wanted...no, she _needed_ Jackson.

“Jackson?” she called out to him brokenly, but the front door slammed in response and she flung the journal back on the table. _No...please._ “Jackson wait!” Frankie shouted again, rushing from the living room and sliding across the kitchen tile in her slipper-socked feet to get to the door. Flinging it open, she saw that a sudden autumn shower had begun pouring from the sky. “Jackson!” she cried out again from the porch, but he was already in the car slamming the driver side door shut. And not caring, not caring at all about herself and the permanent damage that could be done, Frankie flung herself out into the rain to stop Jackson before he left. She made it to the car just as the engine started and banged on his window with her palm.

“What are you doing out here?!” Jackson shouted, shutting off the car and opening the door. “Get back inside!”

“Not until you come with me!"

“You know you can’t be outside when it’s pouring like this, now go!” Jackson pushed himself up out of his seat and slammed the door.

“Jackson I’m...sorry,” Frankie’s speech became stunted and slurred as rainwater began to soak into her system, her bolts sparking consistently with escaping energy. “I’m s-s-so sorry. Please d...don’t go…”

“Frankie!” As her knees buckled and she began to fall, Jackson scooped her up in his arms and carried her tall slim frame back up to the house. Pushing the front door back open, he hurried into the living room and lay his wife back down on the couch. He turned up the flames on the gas fireplace and ran to grab Frankie’s hairdryer and some blankets, anything to keep her warm and dry. Frankie tried to get up but her involuntary sparking kept her pinned down. And in not being able to move, she was lost in her own thoughts winking by her line of vision, a side effect of the short circuiting. The memories of last night that she had tried to blot from her mind played out in front of her in flashes:

_“Jackson, she’s so beautiful!” Frankie said happily as tears welled in her eyes. She gasped and clapped her hands. "Did you see that? She looked right at me!”_

_“She sure did,” Jackson exhaled in relief, as if not quite believing it had actually happened. They did it. They created a child. “Our little girl…” He took off his rectangle glasses and swiped at his eyes with the back of his glove._

_…_

_The generator sputtered and whined. It wasn’t strong enough to keep her alive for long. The little reanimated corpse convulsed dangerously, her eyes rolling back into her head._

_…_

_“What’s happening?”_

_“The voltage levels aren’t high enough.”_

_“So make them higher!”_

_“Frankie I can’t just do that, we don’t have enough power in our outlets!”_

_“Then use me!”_

_“ No! Are you insane?! Don’t you remember what happened at the Bitecentennial?!”_

_“Jackson, this is our daughter!"_

_“And you’re my wife! I’m not sacrificing you for her!”_

_…_

_“Jackson let’s--”_

_“No.”_

_“Jackson please don’t do this--”_

_“No. I can’t take it anymore. It's over.”_

_“JACKSON, STOP!”_

“Frankie, I’m right here!” Jackson yelled over her and Frankie blinked rapidly, staring up at the ceiling of the living room as she realized she’d been screaming out loud. As if she were trapped in a nightmare. But it was real and it had truly happened. Lifting her head from the pillow, she sat up to face her husband who was sitting beside her, blow drying the damp stitches along her mint green limbs.

“You didn’t listen…” she muttered, her breaths coming out in short gasps.

“I know,” Jackson said in a hushed voice, shutting off the dryer and setting it on the table. “I just...I couldn’t…”

“I gave up, too. I didn’t stop you in time.”

“It’s not your fault, Frankie.” He unfolded one of the blankets and wrapped it around her shivering frame, her sparks finally receding so he could hold her by the shoulders. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered soothingly. “It’s mine…”

“I wish we could go back and do this whole week over. I just...I want a child. Even though I only knew her for a few minutes, I loved her.” Tears pooled into Frankie’s two-toned eyes and she drew the blanket tighter around herself. “She was still our daughter.”

“She was,” Jackson replied in a choked voice, running his fingers through her hair. “It’s all my fault, Frankie. She’s gone because of me, I’m--I’m so sorry.”

“No, not because of you,” Frankie insisted, shaking her head. “Because it wasn’t meant to happen for us. Even though we want it so badly…” Her bolts began to release sparks from wetness in her system again, but it wasn’t from rain this time. At long last, she could look Jackson in the face and unashamedly show him all of her visible anguish. At long last, Frankie broke down and cried. It was okay, just like her mom had said, even better than okay. Frankie never thought crying like this could feel so _good_ , like her heavy stitched heart was finally being cleansed now that she'd let down her guard. Jackson wordlessly kissed the top of her head as he covered up her sparking neck with the blanket. Leaning back on the couch, he gathered his wife’s balled up form in his arms and rocked her gently as she wept long and hard against his chest. “Don’t leave,” Frankie sobbed into Jackson’s work shirt. “I can’t--I can't handle this without you. You _are_ my family, Jackson. I love you.”

“I love you, too…” Jackson’s chest heaved with dry sobs right along with her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give us what we wanted most of all.” They grieved together for quite some time in front of the fireplace, taking in turns kissing away tears and exchanging words of comfort and devotion. Grieving for their child who would never know the experiences of growing up, going to school, making friends, or know the parents that would care for and love her more than anything in the world. By the time the couple's weeping had subsided, they both felt lighter than air. That while the sorrow of losing their daughter would always be with them, the weight of their guilt was finally lifted.

“Do you think we’ll ever get it right?” Frankie asked quietly, her breath still hitching slightly from crying as she hugged him closer to her.

“I have a feeling we will someday, just like your parents did,” Jackson said, caressing her streaked black and white hair as the last of his tears fell through the silky follicles. “But...I don’t think I want to try again for awhile. This was too draining for me.”

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, lifting her head up so she could gaze into the soft blue eyes behind black rectangle glasses. “I just worry that...well, we don’t have all the time in the world and…”

“I promise we’ll have a child before then,” Jackson said in utmost certainty, not wanting Frankie to upset herself again with talk of his ultimate death decades down the road. “ _Together_. I’ll let you call some of the shots next time, okay?”

“Okay,” Frankie smiled a rather saddened smile at last before sealing Jackson’s lips with a deep kiss. She mentally kicked herself for thinking less of Jackson and how she could ever believe that he wasn’t a familial part of her unlife. He was the one who truly understood her, who loved her even in those times of doubt, who waited for her to realize her same affections for him, who would do anything to put a smile back on her face, who now made her feel so safe and secure in his arms that she could stay there forever. Even if they could never pass on their love to a child of their own, they would always have the love between themselves. A love that gave Frankie far more spark than she ever realized before.

“So I guess I should put Sparky’s journal away, huh?” Jackson broke the silence after holding Frankie for a few quiet moments. Both of their gazes traveled to the worn book on the coffee table as Jackson picked it up to hide it once again.

“No, leave it out,” Frankie said, gesturing for Jackson to give it to her and he obeyed. “I want to look through it a little. He was my grandfather after all.” She set it in her lap and it fell open to a page particularly indented into the binding. There was a sketch of a young ghoul with black and white hair, bolts in her neck and--Frankie chuckled in remembrance--that green and black plaid skirt she always wore to school back then.

“It’s you,” Jackson smiled, cuddling her close with one arm.

“Uh-huh. This must’ve been right after his trip to the future when we met. I wonder if he ever told Dad about me." Given the rocky relationship they had, Frankie guessed not and assumed her father had only discovered her through this sketch in his creator's journal after he died. She carefully turned the page over and saw nearly illegible scrawled handwriting. “Wow,” Frankie squinted, turning the book this way and that, “and I thought _Dad’s_ handwriting was awful.”

“Let me try, I’ve read through it already.” Jackson pulled the book towards him and held it up closer to his eyes. “ _This girl was truly a sight to behold in both appearance and intellect. Through meeting her, I was able to grasp not only an understanding of the advances mad science would undergo in 200 years, but an understanding of what is needed to succeed in my endeavors as well. It doesn't matter how much knowledge I acquire, it is the will of the heart and finding the love for family that was the missing piece. It seems Professor Steam was right all along, and I can only hope I never lose sight of what he or my beloved granddaughter have taught me._ ”

“But he did,” Frankie sniffled as she brushed away a few tears with the blanket. “He abandoned my father. All because he didn’t turn out the way he wanted him to. He had his own hopes and dreams that didn't line up with Sparky's. And he just...left him to fend for himself. It still hurts my dad to talk about it.”

“You could only do so much for him, Frankie,” Jackson soothed her. “You couldn’t completely change who he was, arrogant and lost in his own selfish wants and needs, but you gave him the spark to move forward. Sometimes we do good things for people who don’t deserve it.” He slid the book back into her lap and wiped a tear from her cheek. “And...I think this is the spark we’ve been missing, too. I didn't see it the first time through, but I think I got it now."

“What do you mean?” Frankie looked at him quizzically. “We're not like him, we would love any child we brought into this world. We would _never_ abandon them."

“I know we wouldn’t, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Jackson shook his head. “I mean the love we have for each other, and the love for our child, needs to be channelled into our work creating her. We need that _willpower_." He grasped tightly onto Frankie’s hands, “Frankie, I get so wrapped up in the technical side of it all that it’s easy to forget the big picture, the reason I'm doing it all in the first place. It’s only when she was born that we felt like parents, didn’t we?”

“Yeah...yeah, you’re right.” Frankie returned his grip. “When I stitched her together, they were all just body parts to me. It didn’t hit me until she was whole that this was a real being, my daughter. Jackson...we have to maintain that mindset throughout the whole process. We _can't_ just rush into this, that was Sparky's downfall at first! We need _time_ to develop our willpower and our love for a child, that’s the answer!”

“Exactly!” Jackson exclaimed happily, sweeping her up in his arms again and laying kisses all over her face. “That was all you. You gave Frankenstein the answer and now us, too.”

“It’s amazing how much you can forget after becoming a grownup,” Frankie breathed. “Thank you for finding the journal, and thank you for reminding me. I’m sorry I got angry at you about it.”

“Isn’t that what families do? Get mad at each other?”

“As long as they never lose sight of the big picture,” Frankie repeated back to him, pressing her forehead against his.

“You know,” Jackson said after he pecked her lips, “going to Deuce and Cleo’s tomorrow doesn’t sound so bad anymore.”

“Yeah, tell them we’ll be there,” Frankie nodded as Jackson got up to go to the kitchen and call his beast friend back. “Don’t forget, we don’t know a thing!” As Jackson left, she reached down for the journal that had fallen to the floor in their sudden burst of joy. Well not entirely joy, they still had yet to see if their breakthrough was correct, but a burst of hope nonetheless. Closing the book, she cradled it against her chest once again as she leaned back against the couch and shut her eyes. The image of that boy named Sparky swam into her subconscious, that last look of gratitude he had left her with before going back to his time adorning his features, completely unaware of what would happen afterwards and what he would become.

_Thanks, Grandpa. I mean it. I might never forgive you for what you did to Dad...but I still thank you._

_And your great-granddaughter will thank you, too._

 


End file.
